


Tastes Like Fear.

by Cliff



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 01, Shame, Shock, Strangulation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliff/pseuds/Cliff
Summary: Some animals were bad seeds… Some animals weren’t safe and needed to be put down… Or caged. But that didn't mean you couldn’t try to understand them, to find out what triggered them, to prevent them from becoming vicious in the first place.Holden got attacked during an interview and, in shock and shame, tried to hide it.





	1. Chapter 1

When he was fourteen he’d been bitten by a neighbours Rottweiler while at a barbecue.

He remembered the sensation of everything slowing down. He remembered screaming till his throat hurt but all the sound he was making being silent to his own ears.

He remembered throwing his arm in front of his head and neck to protect himself, of the dog latching its big jaws around his forearm instead of this throat. The weight of the animal as it knocked him over. Theteeth inches from his face for what felt like hours. 

The pressure relenting and the dog being pulled off him…. Just as his muscles Gave up and arm gave way. 

He was pulled up… He struggled…He remembered feeling his father’s chest against his back, He remembered his Dad’s big arms and shoulders covering him, squeezing him, pulling him back away from the slavering animal, still straining at it’s collar, pulling its owners arm as it was dragged away… His Dad’s big hand squeezing the spurting wound in his arm, his blood seeping through his fathers fingers.

The dog had been shot… He’d felt bad about that. Even as he’d sat in the emergency clinic andendured stitches and a series of agonizing rabies shots. The dog didn’t know any better.

His mom had squeezed his hand. “Don’t feel bad honey, it might’ve been a little kid next time and goodness knows what damage he’d have done.”

He didn’t feel bad anymore.

Some animals were bad seeds… Some animals weren’t safe and needed to be put down… Or caged. But that didnt mean you couldn’t try to understand them, to find out what triggered them, to prevent them from becoming vicious in the first place.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

He’d taken a solo interview.

He knew, on some level, that it wasn’t a good idea. But in the two weeks since Vacaville he’d wanted nothing more than to get back to work and prove to himself (and the rest of the team)that he wasn’t some pathetic weakling that needed babysitting. 

O’Reilly was meant to be a low risk prisoner. One of the ones where they could take off the cuffs.

It turned out later that someone had fucked up the paperwork. Not someone at their end, someone at the prison had misfiled. Turned out it wasn’t the only way they were lax in their security precautions.

Bill Had barely been able to look at him most days and Wendy was still pissed. But He still caught hell for talking the gig.

“Are you crazy?” Bill shot at him from his corner of the office. “After what happened with Kemper?”

Holden prickled with irritation. “This guy isn’t Kemper and It’ll be in a maximum security setting not a hospital room. It’s in Virginia, two hours drive away for Christ’s sake.”

“No.” Bill said, as though he had any say in the matter. “Wait until I can join you…” Bill had a lot of unenviable networking to do with Gunn, the new boss, that week and would be out of action. “…Or take Wendy.”

Wendy was speaking to him again. Most of her ire was currently focused on Gregg, justifiably so.But he could tell she was still angry he’d risked all her hard work for his own ego trip... Thats how she saw it anyway.

“ I have no doubt Wendy would like to join me in an interview but Gunn needs her here... And before you ask, no, I'm not taking Greg along either." Holden said curtly. “Amazing as it may seem I can stilldo my job Bill. I’ll be fine.”

Bill hadn’t said anything but Holden could tell he didn’t like it. Bill probably wanted him to wear sackcloth and ashes and learn humility after his recent behaviour. _Bad luck Bill. _A lousy panic attack wasn’t going to keep him from his work.

“I said I’ll be fine.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Maybe it was the Vallum he took before going into the penitentiary… But It was just like the dog all those years ago...

Later he’d think back and try to remember what he did to trigger the animal. But the whole incident remained foggy. He remembered introducing himself, turning on the tape recorder and asking the guards to remove O’Reilly’s cuffs.

Thomas O’Reilly. Mid 50s, gunmetal grey, long hair. Killer, strangler of at least twelve young women,wasn’t a particularly huge man like Kemper or Brudos. But he was solid and wiry with muscle. He wouldn’t be the first person you’d want to get into a brawl with, but you wouldn’t run screaming at the sight of him either. Which is why Holden thought it was strange that the guard initially refused to remove the cuffs.

“No go ahead.” Holden told him. “We’re relaxed about that kind of thing”

“I don’t think…” The guard began.

“It’s a conversation not an interrogation.” Holden told him sharply. “Just do it.”

His tone brooked no argument and the guard unlocked O’Reilly’s shackles. The man smiled at Holden and sat at the desk, on which rested a can of coke. The bribe that had enticed the killer to be interviewed in the first place. He stretched out his legs and opened the can, taking a long swig.

“ Comfortable?” Holden asked him.

“ Oh yeah.” The man smirked at him in a way that reminded him a little of Richard Speck._ Now there was a man you wouldn’t interview without cuffs._

“ So before we begin…” Holden started the transcript… But O’Reilly’s eyes wandered to the bars, on the other side of whichtwo guards were hovering. _Unusual for them not to just take off down the hall for a smoke _Holden thought.

“ Say boy…” O’Reilly asked. “You got a cigarette?”

“I… I’m sorry I don’t smoke... But maybe I can…”

O’Reilly got up and went to the door, he leaned though the bars and asked the guard if he could bum a cigarette.

“ Go fuck yourself pervert.” The guard responded.

O’Reilly laughed, and returned to Holden, he sat on the edge of the desk , as though he were a little edgy or nervous.

Holden thought the interview went ok at first.O’Reilly reminisced about his childhood…Abusive, obviously… Both fear and idolisation of his violent father… His mother, who hadn’t protected him…. His hatred of women… All fairly standard stuff.

“ Do you think your sexual violence against women stemmed from hatred of your mother?” Holden asked him.

“Aw hell no. I never wanted to fuck that bitch!” The man growled. “It never even had to be women, one hole is as good as another… That’s why those faggots at the door there” He indicated the guards “ Give me a hard time.”

“Because you’re bisexual?” Holden was fascinated. “But you only raped and killed women?”

O’Reilly snorted “Yeah that you feds know about.”

“There were others?”

“Oh!” He laughed “You bet… ISN’T THAT RIGHT BOYS?” He yelled over to the guards. “See they’re pissed off cause I had a go at some little new fish faggot in the shower last month. Pretty little thing…Fucked him up good.” He smiled, flashing shark white teeth. “ Didn’t manage to kill ‘I’m though… Not quite… Left me feeling’… Hungry. ”

The way he looked at him made Holden shudder involuntarily the sudden frisson of danger in the air was palpable. Still... He was on the verge of getting a confession to other possible murders. He wasn’t going to pass it up even if it did make him want to reach into his pocket and swallow another valium. 

“So you have killed men befo…”

He was cut off mid sentence as O’Reilly suddenly twisted his body and made a grab for him.

Holden had instinctively thrown up his arm in defence. _A killer would have attacked._But unlike an animal, this killer didn’t latch onto his forearm. Instead he grabbed his wrist and twisted it. 

Holden yelled as O’Reilly pushed him over the desk with all his weight on Holden’s arm, twisted behind him. He could hear the guards struggling with the lock. “Theres something wrong! He did something to it!"

It was the metal tab from the Coke can, Holden would later discover. O’Reilly had put it into the keyhole when he went to ask for a cigarette.

When he realised no one was coming to help him Holden exploded. He twisted and kicked, not caring about the pain in his arm or shoulder, he struggled out of O’Reilly’s vice grip and landed a punch on the man’s jaw that he probably didn’t even feel… But Holden felt the blow that landed him on the floor. Head slamming against the concrete.

_I’m going to die now._

O’Reilly was on him, and he knew that if the man got on top of him it was over. The man’s hands were on his throat, thumbs pressing down with unimaginable force. Every ounce of Holden’s awareness was focused on getting those hands off his throat, he tried to bend the man’s fingers back to no avail, then he scratched helplessly as his lungs screamed for air and his eyeballs burned. Somewhere on the edge of his awareness he could hear yelling from the guards.

_I’m going to die now._

Something had happened… Had he passed out? He took a breath. O’Reilly was still on top of him, his hands were still on his throat but he wasn’t squeezing as tightly. Holden gasped painfully against the restriction. The man leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Thats it sweetheart… Can’t have you dying on me just yet…”His voice was like acid burning into Holden’s brain. The hands tightened again.

He couldn’t move… He knew he was going to die… And he couldn’t move. He felt O’Reilly’s erection against his thigh. He felt it pressing into him, again and again, O’Reilly was rubbing against him. He wanted to vomit, or sleep…Or…

...

He took a breath.

...

Time was missing. O’Reilly was gone. The paper white face of the guard was in front of him. He was sitting up. In a chair. The guard was looking at him, saying something. He was holding his hand. Holden drew it back like he’d been burned.

“Wh..at?” Holden heard his own voice. Barely a voice. Choked, destroyed. It hurt.

“I said you need to come with me to the hospital wing.”

He shook his head and a bolt of pain shot down his spine. He winced. “ It’s… k…” He said “…’m… fine.” His voice was a whisper. Even as a he tried to raise it.

“You don’t look fine kid.” The guard said. There was anger in it. “That bastard almost strangled you Goddammit!”

Holden shook his head again. “Done.” He whispered.He looked around for the tape recorder and found it in pieces all over the room.Along with the desk, turned over and a chair, splintered. 

He got up on shaky legs and walked out on the protesting guard. He walked down the hall, past the security desk and out of the building… He knew there were things he needed to do. Sign out, for example. But he just needed air… He needed to be outside.

He fell to his knees beside his car and rested his foreheadon the hot metal of the fender. He felt for his Valium and found it gone. _Must’ve fallen out during the struggle. _

The struggle seemed far away somehow. Long ago. He got up, leaning heavily on the vehicle. He stared at the ugly grey penitentiary. _You don’t exist. _He thought at it. He got into the car, he knew he shouldn’t drive right now. _You’re in shock_his brain supplied. He ignored it. He had to get home… Had to get_ safe_.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

He drove to his apartment… He must have, because there he was. He felt exhausted beyond anything he’d felt before…He wanted desperately to get inside without anyone seeing him. There wasn’t anyone in the stairwell or hallway. He got inside and shut the door. Then lay down on the couch and…

...

He took a breath.

He opened his eyes, it was getting dark. The clock told him it was after seven. That didn’t feel like sleep but he’d been gone for hours.

It was only now that he felt the pain. He felt bruised all over, arm and shoulder frozen, his head was throbbing and his eyes ached like when he had Measles as a child.

He breathed in through his mouth and the air hurt his throat… A lot… He made his way to the sink, light-headed. He tasted metal in his mouth, he took a mouthful of water from the faucet and almost choked on it it hurt so badly to swallow. Like a knife was sliding across his trachea.

He was gripped by the sudden notion that he couldn’t breathe. Hefelt the familiar cold hands of panic gripping his heart and squeezing.

_Ear to ear… So they bleed out and suffocate at the same time. _Kemper’s voice echoed in his head.

_Fuck you Ed._

He lay on the floor for some time. Struggling for every breath. After God knows how long he got onto his hands and knees and crawled.

Hereached for thephone then sat down on the floor with his back to the wall.

....

_“Wendy Carr BSU.”_

True to form, she was working late.

“Wh…Wendy…” He whispered painfully.

_“Holden? Are you alright? You didn’t come back to the office this afternoon.”_

“ Sick” He managed.

“ Oh… Sorry to hear that… How sick?”

“ Th…roat.”

_ “Laryngitis huh?” _

“Ye…”

_“Don’t try totalk.” _She sighed. _“You won’t be interviewing anyone in that condition. I’ll let the others know you’re sick tomorrow.”_

“Thank…” He choked out. Relief washing over him.

_“ I said DON’T try to talk … Hot tea with honey… Get well soon Holden.”_

She hung up on him and he dropped the receiver… Then crawled across the room to the couch, where he pulled the ratty old blanket around himself and curled into a ball.

He had a sudden, overwhelming, childish need to call his mother… He knew this would kill her. To see him like this._ Sick. _He told himself. _Sick not beaten, not assaulted and strangled._

He shut his eyes and drifted. The pain stopping him from sleeping properly. He drifted in the darkness of his empty apartment. Occasionally dreaming a little of home, or work, or Debbie.

_Bill Tench standing over him with a look of disgust on his face. “What the hell were you thinking Ford? Why didn’t you fight? If you’re going to be that stupid at least learn to defend yourself… Pathetic… Letting that pervert use you like that.” He blows cigarette smoke in his direction._

Eventually he fell into something that wasn’t quite sleep, but still rendered him unconscious. 

_Somewhere in a dream, or hallucination, someone was weeping...And someone else was laughing. _

_...._

_A dog barking. _


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up was like swimming up from deep underwater. His body dragging him back under. Everything was murky. He finally broke the surface.

He woke with a gasp.

Agony… There was no other way to describe it. Whatever had happened yesterday had time to grow into itself overnight. His whole body _hurt, _both in the places he knew he was injured and entirely new ones. The first rays of sunrise were creeping through the window. The street outside was silent. He cried out but no sound escaped his throat. He couldn’t turn his head or move his shoulder or arm.

_Fuck._

He wanted to drink something, anything to calm the pain in his throat.He did his best to sit up on the couch but found his head swimming. Nausea caused him to lie down again. He closed his eyes, a creeping terror began to cover him like a blanket._ I should be in hospital. _He thought of calling for help. He heard Bill’s voice in his head.

_Calling? Are you kidding you can’t make a fucking sound… You know what you _ ** _should _ ** _have done? You should have followed my fuckin’ advice and waited for me instead of trying to prove something like a macho little prick. Now look at you. Badly injured, God knows what damage internally, in too much pain to move and unable to even call for help... Well done Holden._

_A slow clap in the back of his brain. “Fucking idiot.” _ He felt physically sick at the thought of anyone else seeing him this weak.

_You know something kid? _ The voice in his head said. _You deserved every last bit of it. You cocky son of a bitch._

He tried to remember all the events of the the previous day but kept drawing a blank after O’Reilly attacked him. Like the moment those gnarled hands latched onto his neck his memory took a vacation. He knew he was still wearing his suit and badly wanted to shower… He felt disgusting. There was metallic taste in his mouth.

He did the only thing he could do, closed his eyes and let tears run down his temples. Tried not to move. Eventually drifting back into that liminal state of half awareness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bill came in slightly late, it had been a stressful morning with Brian not wanting to go to school and not wanting to tell them why. The tantrum had thrown him a little, he never really knew how to deal with them. The poor boy was so angry and frustrated and utterly unable to express himself normally. Not fo the first time, he thought of asking Wendy to take a look at him. He knew Nancy would freak out at the suggestion though.

He poured himself a coffee and sat at his desk, trying to dislodge a persistent stress headache.

“Hi Bill”

Wendy put her head out of her office. “We have a meeting with Gunn scheduled for Noon… Oh and Holden isn’t coming in, he’s sick.”

“Sick how?”

“Laryngitis. He was pretty horse on the phone last night. Probably won’t be any better today. I told him to stay home, I’d rather not catch it.”

“Huh,” Bill murmured, feeling vaguely uneasy for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “He seemed fine yesterday morning.”

“I’d be curious to hear how the O’Reilly interview went.” Wendy said as she sorted through some papers and went back into her office. “ He say anything to you about it?”

“No… No he didn’t call…I wonder if I should have…” He trailed off. He’d felt uneasy about Holden going on that one. Something about it had felt wrong.

But he didn’t have time to think about it. They were down an agent, there was work to do… Gunn wanted to talk to them at twelve and he had another Godawful party to attend on the weekend. Gunn wanted him to bring Nancy. She’d take some convincing. She couldn’t stand work get togethers.

Sometimes it really sucked being the only person on the team with any social skills. Gunn wasn’t going to run the risk ofsetting Holden or Wendy loose at a social event again.

He drummed his fingers on his desk. On a whim he picked up the phone and dialled Holden’s number. He wanted to know how things went yesterday. The line was engaged, he shrugged and hung up.

By the end of the day Bill wanted nothing more than to head home to his family. He was the last one in the office. Even Wendy was gone. She’d actually headed off a little earlier than usual. She was dressed to the nines and wearing perfume.

“Date night?” Teased Bill.

“Maybe” She smiled as she put on her coat.

“He’s a lucky guy.” Bill said in passing. It’s what you’re supposed to say, to make a girl feel good about herself right? But when he said it her face fell slightly and the smile became fake.

“Good night Bill… Oh… Did Holden call? I need to know if he’ll be working this week. His phone isn’t ringing.”

“ Yeah I tried this morning too. I’ll call again before I go.”

“Thanks.”

When Bill once again got the telltale drone of the engaged tone. He had to wonder. _Either Holden, who has laryngitis, has been talking on the phone all damn day… Or he left the phone off the hook…Or…_

Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. He decided that it wouldn’t be the strangest thing for him to go check in on Holden. Maybe It wasn’t too presumptuous if it was work related.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the day, waking each time was like a painful nightmare. This time there were shadows moving, and sounds. A godawful ringing in his ears... A voice…He reached for it, slowly swimming up to meet it. He opened his eyes. He was cold, lying on his side, looking out at the living room. It was dark. The door was open and someone was silhouetted against the light in the hallway.

“Holden?”

It was Bill, Standing at the doorHis shadow stretching across the room in the shaft of sickly light that dimly illuminated the room.

_Are you real? _ He wasn’t sure, this version of Bill wasn’t yelling abuse at him.

“Holden? How didn’t I wake you? I was hammering the door down! I had to get a key from the super.” Bill said as he reached for the light switch._ Please no! _Holden reached out his hand in BIll’s direction with a muffled sound of protest. _Don’t turn on the light. _

Too late. The sudden brightness had him covering his face with his good hand, curling into himself. His entire body screaming, his mind telling him to hide._ He can’t know about this!No one needs to know!_

“Hell… You really are sick aren’t you?” He heard Bill’s voice as he approached the couch. “ Are you still in your work clothes… What…?”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the silence that followed. He could feel Bill’s gaze… Analytical, a professional person reader… He was analysing Holden’s position, the way his limbs were folded, the rapidly of his breathing, the shivering… HIs suit from two days ago. Rumpled, and possibly blood stained… His…

He flinched back as Bill crouched beside him and carefully pulled his hand away from his face. Holden opened his eyes, expecting to see anger… He wasn’t sure why exactly. But he was sure he’d see Bill’s face contorted in anger….Or irritation or disappointment. He looked for a split second into icy blue eyes.

_Fear…Pure, undiluted fear._

_No lecture, no fast or rough movements. Why had he been waiting for that?_

“Let me see.”_Quiet voice… Like the way he spoke to Brian… Or victim’s families._

Holden jumped violently at the sensation of a hand, barely touching his jaw… Fingersmoving the fabric of his collar to get a look at his throat. A vile whimpering sound came out of him, he pulled his head back and an explosion of pain came from his neck.

“Shhhh… Easy…Let me see.”

He tried not to move, tried to breathe as calmly as he could. His throat felt so constricted, he couldn’t get enough air.

“ Lets get you sitting up. You’re gonna feel my hands ok?” As Bill slid an arm under him and reached behind him to pull him into a sitting position. His head swam and for one terrifying moment he thought he’d vomit.

“Easy… Put your head back…”

HoldenShut his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch cushion and let Bill unknot his tie and unbutton the few remaining intact buttons on his shirt… He heard the man’s breathing halt in a muted gasp.

“Jesus Christ.” Bill Whispered. “Holden?”

He opened his eyes, unable to make a sound. Bill was at his eye level looking at him with… _Pity?_… Something that made him want to burst into tears at any rate.

“Can you speak?”

Holden lifted his good hand and made cutting motion at his throat.

“Painful to move your neck?”

Holden gave thumbs up.

“Swallowing?”

He raised his thumb again _Yes. _He could feel his pulse beating through his head like a lump hammer to the skull. He was afraid to move in case he injured anything worse than it already was.

Bill briefly disappeared to the kitchenette. When he returned he had his hands full of kitchen towels and a jug. He pulled a chair out so he could sit in front of Holden properly.

“Open your mouth.” He whispered. holden hesitated. Something about Bill seeing his injured throat, so swollen that he was short of breath, really bothered him. Bill Sighed, handed him an ice cube from a jug “It’s ok. I won’t touch anything. Just hold this in your mouth… For the swelling.” Holden did as he was told and put the cube in his mouth, letting it slowly melt on his tongue. The tiny amount of liquid wasn’t enough to quench his thirst but it didn’t make him gag either.

Bill took a towel and filled it with ice. “I’m going to hold this to you throat ok?” He held the ice pack to Holden’s throat gently, more gently than Holden thought Bill was capable of being.

“I’m going to get you to hold this in place and then I’m going to take off your shirt all right? One sleeve at a time”.

Despite his light headedness, it was not lost on Holden that Bill was treating him the way cops are supposed to treat a rape victim. Carefully narrating all his movements so Holden could anticipate any touching. He also, rather glaringly, hadn't asked Holden how he'd come by his injuries. 

_I need to explain to him _**_that_**_ didn’t happen. _Holden thought, mortified._ It didn’t._ But in the back of his mind was the awful gap in his memory. When he tried he could catch flashes of O’Reilly on top of him. The weight of his body. The fact that he was…

He shuttered his mind against the possibility._ Fuck that, that didn’t happen, he'd know if it did.... But... _

He leaned forward slightly and let Bill remove his jacket and shirt awkwardly. Bill hissed at the sight of Holden’s shoulder and arm. Out of the corner of his eye Holden could see the bruising, almost black, from his wrist to halfway up his forearm. _O’Reilly twisting his arm behind him and pressing his entire weight onto him as he lay, face down, trapped against the desk. _He felt the motion now as he hadn’t during the assault, maybe due to all the adrenaline. _The wrench and sickening pop of O’Reilly dislocating his shoulder._

“Ok so here’s what we’re going to do.” Bill’s voice was steady, but with a false steadiness that it took another fed to recognise. “We’re gonna get your arm in a sling and some of that swelling in your throat down, but first I’m calling an ambulance.”

Holden shook his head without thinking and would have screamed if he’d been able to. He squeezed his eyes closed and gulped around the pain. White hot and radiating from just under his chin down to his collarbone. He must’ve passed out for a moment because suddenly he was aware that Bill had one hand on either side of his head, murmuring to him to keep still.

“It's ok kid… Just relax and let me help you.”

He felt tears pricking his eyes, everything blurred. “ You got a headache?.. Don’t move your neck.”

Holden gave a thumbs up. He felt BIll’s fingers carefully searching back of his head and neck. He froze when he touched a spot. _His head bouncing off the concrete floor. _

“Concussion maybe.” Bill thought out loud. “Stay Still. I’m calling 911.”

Bill made the call, he spoke softly, but Holden vaguely caught the words _strangulation _and _assault. _He felt his heart speed up in his chest. His breath suddenly ripping at his throat in it's ferocity.

_Please don't! This is bad enough. _The idea of strangers poking and prodding him made him feel sick. _I just want to sleep._

He must've looked desperate because Bill was in front of him again, taking his pulse, rubbing his arm. 

"I can see you're upset. I'm sorry." 

Holden pulled his hand away abruptly and gave a repeated violent thumbs down gesture. 

"Holden I "... I don't want to scare you ok... But..." He sighed, genuine distress crossing his earnest face "...I've been on the force a long time, and... I've seen a lot of assaults... And here's the thing about strangulation... The neck has lots of nerves and blood vessels connected to the brain, and tiny bones... People can get strangled and walk away from it .. Then drop dead a few days or even a week later... You can't ignore this...Its too dangerous... You understand? And you can't treat a dislocated shoulder or a broken arm at home.. And that's just what I can _see_..." He left the implication hanging. Holden knew Bill could see everything down to his waist.

"If it helps I'll be with you the whole time. I won't leave you alone. I promise."

Bill's tone was so understanding, and what he was saying so reasonable that Holden didn't protest anymore. Bill was right. He knew that... He tried to regulate his breathing looking down at his hands, as far down as he could without moving his neck...Then he saw it... What Bill was inferring in his oblique way.

His fly was undone. 

Had he unbuttoned it himself at some point between the penitentiary and here? He couldn't remember for the life of him. The time he lost between getting in his car and arriving home haunted him... But so did the missing time with the psychopath. He shuddered suddenly at the memory of the man's breath in his ear... _"Can't have you dying on me just yet."_

Guessing what Bill must be thinking made him flush with humiliation. He couldn't look away from his own zipper. Bill picked up the old blanket from the floor and laid it over Holden's lap. 

_You didn't try and fasten it, 'cause thats evidence now right Bill? _Holden thought ruefully. 

The ice pack was taken from his hand as Bill held it for him again. His hand was lowered to his lap by Bill's. Holden couldn't look away from Bill's hand, holding his, pressing lightly, as though to reassure him that yes, this was real.

"They'll probably put a neck brace on you." He murmured. "Just relax kid. They'll be here soon."

Holden turned his hand and gripped Bill's wrist hard._ Don't fucking leave._

"Its ok." Bill said, in that steady, calm way of his. Understanding without needing to hear it. "I'm not going anywhere."

In the distance, through the ringing of his own ears, Holden heard a siren. 


	3. Chapter 3

Bill watched the half silent, half rushed, bustle of the Nurses as they prepared for the late shift. 2am and Holden was finally asleep, or heavily sedated as the case may be. Bill had been given a roll matress to sleep on, but those things reminded him of the army, he preferred the chair. Not like he was getting any shut eye now… Not after the last couple of hours.

He’d called Nancy as soon as he could, she’d been out of her mind with worry that he hadn’t come home from work. But when he told her why she’d burst into tears. Both with relief that Bill was ok, and grief for Holden.

_“That poor boy… If you hadn’t stopped by... God knows what would’ve happened…”_

Bill had thought about that a lot since… Especially since he’d received a full medical report from the hospital. He was getting a clearer picture of what, in fact, would have happened to Holden if he hadn’t stopped by.

Debbie had broken up with him and his parents lived in another state. He had no other family, no friends that Bill knew about…_He has no one_. He was struck with a sudden sadness at his partner’s isolation. Why? he wondered. There was, ostensibly, nothing wrong with him. He was a young, handsome guy with a good job… Granted his social skills could use some work but he had charm, of a sort. There was no reason he shouldn’t have a social life.

He’d have called Wendy but she was out on her date. Gunn knew, and was shocked. He’d told Bill to stick with Holden as much as possible and keep him updated on his condition. All BSU work would grind to a halt for a while, he guessed.

He kept thinking of What Ifs... What if he’d knocked twice on Holden’s door and left when there wasn’t a reply? What if he’d assumed Holden was asleep? What if he’d gotten there the next morning?

What if he’d insisted on accompanying Holden to the interview with that bastard?

He’s told Gunn everything he’d gleaned and was assured that a call would be made to the prison in the morning, demanding answers.

From the moment he’d opened the door to the apartment to the moment he reached the couch his thoughts had been machine gunning all over the place. At first he'd thought Holden was just asleep, possibly wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of tea beside him or something… Then he turned on the light and…

He shuddered at the memory. Nausea rising in his throat.

_Why is he still in his suit? Has he been lying here since yesterday? Just how sick is he?_

_Holden was protecting his eyes from the light, hiding his face. His suit was crumpled and dirty, When Bill pulled his hand away he saw dried blood under his nose and on his lips. Saw him cringe at the touch… The telltale red, bloodshot eyes and tiny red spots on his paper white face… Led Bill's eyes to his throat._

_Fuck!_

_His throat had been one dark black bruise , like a band from ear to ear. He looked like he’d been hanged. The edges were uneven, from fingers, or thumbs. Bill’s heart was in his mouth when he saw that. Someone had throttled his partner. This was attempted murder. _

_He'd performed mental triage and removed Holden's shirt, checked for head injuries, he had been about to cut his undershirt off him when he saw the bruising on the wrist...And arm...The obviously dislocated shoulder… The unfastened pants… Suddenly removing more clothing didn’t seem like a good idea._

It all painted a picture of someone twisting his arm behind his back and… Bill didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. Not Holden. He’s spent too many days on the road and nights in crap motels and horrifying and elating moments with the guy not to call him a friend at this point.

_Some friend you are._ He berated himself. _He was afraid to come to you when he was hurt. _

He knew he’d been angry after the arrogant and unprofessional way Holden had behaved at that OPR meeting… And his more fucked up forays into interrogation technique. 

Holden was a head person. He processed everything through his intellect, which was a good thing for someone in their field. But it meant he bypassed the entire emotional side of it, compartmentalised it out of existence. He never aknowleged his feelings, wants or needs... That didn't mean they weren't there. Waiting to bite him in the ass.

If Bill was being honest, he felt that the close call with Kemper wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Holden needed to be humbled. He needed to know really _know_ in his heart how dangerous, how shockingly evil those people really were… To really _feel_ it, not just in theory.

But _this_? No. _This_ was fucking uncalled for.

He’d been terrified when they wheeled him into the ambulance, shivering like he’d been dumped into a vat of ice water. He’d gripped Bill’s hand like a vice, refusing to let go, even to allow them to take a pulse or attach a heart monitor. 

Bill gripped his hand all the way into the emergency ward, at which point he had to extricate himself in order to speak to the Nurse. Holden hadn’t wanted to let go, his eyes wide and chest rising and falling fast, he’d looked confused and lost.

Bill had leaned over him and whispered in his ear “ I’m not going anywhere…I promise. He pulled the curtain around Holden’s bed, offering him some respite from the light and movement of the ward.

He approached the Nurse and quickly catalogued Holden’s visible injuries. Then had to speculate about the ones he couldn’t see. He hadn’t fully processed it until he had to say it out loud. “I think he needs a female doctor… I think he might have been sexually assaulted.”

She nodded wordlessly. He felt shaken, almost light headed.

They hadn’t been able to find a woman doctor. The Nurse returned with a thin, unthreatening looking man named Clovis. Who spoke calmly and quietly like he was reading the phone book. 

Holden lay flat on the gurney. Staring, almost impassively, into space, the occasional blink the only evidence that he wasn't catatonic. They'd put a neck brace and oxygen mask on him and he looked to be breathing easier. 

“Do you have pain upon turning your head?”

"Difficulty swallowing?"

“Are you experiencing ringing in the ears?”

“If you stick out your tongue do you feel your breathing is restricted?”

“Are you experiencing visual disturbances or hallucinations?’

One by one Holden answered the questions with a thumbs up.

“All right, Thank you Agent Ford. We’ll send you to radiology for X-rays shortly. First we’ll do a physical exam.”

Dr Clovis began, moving slowly and deliberately, carefully detailing his every move verbally. Although Bill wasn’t sure how much Holden was talking in.

“I’m going to touch your throat on both sides now, you’ll feel my fingers…”

“ I’m going to press your left shoulder now.”

“We’re going to remove your undershirt”

“ I’m going to press on your chest.”

Holden looked straight ahead, he didn’t respond to the touch or express pain besides squeezing Bill’s hand so tight he thought he’d break his fingers when the doctor touched his throat, palpating the bruised flesh.

The doctor carefully pulled the edge of Holden’s waistband down an inch. At that slight movement Holden gave a strangled whimper.

“You have bruising on your hips…Were you sexually assaulted?”

The casual, matter of fact way the question was asked was probably intended to calm the patient, but Bill felt a jolt run through Holden’s arm. When he released Holden’s hand so he could reply… He didn’t, only averted his eyes downward. Bill wanted to kill whoever put that look on his partner's face.

“Agent Ford can you answer me yes or no? You may have other injuries that need treatment.” The Doctor's voice was calm but unyielding.

Holden frowned, squirming, as though struggling with the concept. Bill’s heart stopped when he lifted his hand and held his thumb out sideways, somewhere between Yes and No.

“You don’t know?” Asked Dr Clovis.

_Thumb up._

“Are you unsure of what happened constituted sexual assault or can’t you remember what happened?”

“Thats two questions.” Bill said, noticing Holden becoming more distressed at his inability to answer.

“ My apologies.” Dr. Clovis said “Are you having trouble remembering the incident Agent?”

_Thumb up._

“Do you believe it’s a possibility?”

Holden hesitated for a moment and looked to Bill, nervously. Then, reluctantly, indicated _Yes_.

For the first time that night Bill felt dangerously close to tears... Or violence, he wasn't sure which. 

“Would you consent to an examination?”

Holden closed his eyes and stayed motionless.

“Holden... I think you ought to let them take a look” Bill choked out. Holden didn’t respond, seemingly lost in thought, or doubt.

“Lets get you into a gown for X-ray and I'll take a look, it will only take a few minutes." Said the doctor kindly. "Agent Tench would you wait outside the curtain for us?"

Holden's hand shot out and grabbed Bill's sleeve. Holden was looking up at him clearly communicating fear, if nothing else. 

"You want me to stay?" Bill asked carefully. He knew this was necessary, and that he couldn't allow Holden to refuse. But the look on the young man's face made Bill want to wheel the gurney away and escape. "I'll stay right here if you want me to." 

Holden continued to hold onto Bill's sleeve until the doctor took his wrist for a pulse reading.

"Very well, He's your medical proxy, thats perfectly fine." Said Dr Clovis. "Agent Tench if you could sit up by Agent Ford's head and help him keep calm, his heart rate it a little high right now." 

He spoke to the Nurse in hushed tones for a few minutes and she left briefly, returning a moment with a trolly and a lamp. The Nurse covered Holden's lower half with a sheet and helped him get his arms through the sleeves of an open backed paper gown. 

"Now we're just going to remove your shoes and socks: the doctor said in an almost sing song voice, like he was talking to a child. He placed the item's in a bag, one item at a time. "And the rest." He looked at the Nurse and she reached under the sheet and quickly removed the rest of Holden's clothing. Never leaving an inch of his body exposed as she did so. 

Holden looked away from Bill, into the middle distance to his left. Bill swallowed the lump in his own throat and gently placed a hand over Holden's shoulder. He felt the accelerated thud of his partner's heart under his hand.

He tried to imagine what He must be going through and found he was drawing a blank. Bill had dealt with rape before, in a professional sense, of men, woman and children. In the Army, during the war and on the Force. He knew what minefield it was, psychologically speaking, for anyone. But for men... Well.. It was particularly complicated. Because you had the trauma... And then also the ego, the pride, the masculinity questioned, sometimes the sexuality questioned, _the inability to admit that you were fucking hurt to your own partner. Fuck... Please, if there is a God just... Don't do that to him...Please!_

"Great." Said the doctor. Now I'm going to ask Nurse to lift the sheet for me." The Nurse obliged, Holding the sheet up so the doctor could see his lower body but no one else could. 

_If there is mercy in the world just spare him this one fucking thing._

Holden was so avidly trying to avoid eye contact that Bill couldn't bring himself to look at the kid. He just stared at the edge of the sheet and rubbed a circle on Holden's shoulder with his thumb. Crinkling the flimsy tissue of the gown. _I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. _

You'll feel my hands on your right Hip..." The Doctor's calm, level voice..."Now the left." He lowered the sheet. "Now please roll onto your side." Bill and the Nurse helped Holden roll over, facing towards him. Bill could see Holden was pale as a ghost, fighting back tears, looking like he was ready to pass out from exhaustion and humiliation. Bill felt helpless. Unable to make his nightmare stop. 

"If anything hurts I want you to alert Agent Tench ok?" Clovis told him. "This won't take long."

The doctor continued, pulling up the sheet and conscientiously telling Holden when he was about to be touched. 

Bill saw his breath hitch "Does thats hurt?" He whispered, looking at his face. Under the clear plastic of the oxygen mask he was biting his lip bloody. He looked utterly overwhelmed and at the end of his nerves. Right on the edge of total panic.

Bill reached over Holden's shoulder with one arm and put the other around his head, sheltering him in the shadows of his jacket, keeping the hospital lights and noise out of his periphery. 

"Easy..." he whispered. " It's almost over... You're doing fine." Aware of the emotion in his own voice. He then chose to keep quiet. _This is not about you Bill. _Hefelt Holden's body shaking silently under his arm. He suspected that the examination had jogged something in his memory. 

"Ok we're done." Said Doctor Clovis, lowering the sheet and removing his gloves. "Theres no sign of forced penetration, but theres extensive bruising and deep scratches on your hips and upper thighs. I would say it looks like an attempted rape or sexual assault perhaps. Theres no knowing what happened unless you can tell us Agent."

Bill was relived... Ridiculously so, to learn that Holden hadn't been raped. But whatever _had_ happened had left him a wreak. He rubbed a circle on the younger man's back. " You're ok Buddy." He said softly. "You're gonna be just fine." Holden didn't respond, he just shut his eyes again.

He walked beside the gurney as they wheeled him into radiology. He was stopped at the door. “You can wait out here Agent Tench.” Said the nurse. She then turned to Holden;

“Agent Tench can’t come into the actual room with you.” She said softly. “I can though.” Holden looked back at Bill as they wheeled him through the door.

“I’ll be right here Holden” Bill told him.

As the door closed he let out a shuddering breath and collapsed into a hard plastic chair in the hallway, feeling his knees become weak under him. He sat there for a few minutes just trying to compose himself. That's when he spotted the phone on the wall and realised Nancy didn’t have a clue where he was. 

After the call he sat with his head in his hands, trying to shake the image of bruised flesh and swollen eyes from his mind. 

He waited... And waited.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The clicking of the X-ray, the hushed murmuring of the radiologist to the doctor.

"Hold still Honey" said the Nurse gently. 

The pain was mounting since the shock wore off. The longer he stayed still the worse it was. He didn't mind, his punishment, his humiliation, his weakness... he felt so guilty, he didn't quite know why. He squeezed his eyes shut trying not to breathe.

_"You dragged me in here and made me sit through your snivelling." _ Bill's voice in his head. "_You disgust me! I should be home with my family but i'm here with your sorry ass! If you'd managed to just do your fucking job..."_

_No. That's wrong. That's not him. Bill wasn't mad... He was upset... He had tears in his eyes when they left him. _

"Agent Ford?" The Nurses voice. "Holden?"

He opened his eyes to see her hovering over him. Her young face lined with concern.

"We're done with the X-rays...Show me on the fingers of your good hand... How bad is the pain? On a scale of one to five?" 

He showed her his hand, fingers spread out. 

"As soon as the radiologist is through reading them, we'll get you the right amount of painkillers ok?" 

_Painkillers_.

He gave her a thumbs down, fighting back nausea. He needed to say something... He needed to speak... _What do you need to say?_

He reached out to her... He tried to write with his finger in the air. She didn't understand. 

"You're doing great. She said softly. You're doing just great." 

_No... No I need to tell you something. _

He felt a gut wrenching, primal need for his mother. _Mom... She told me something important about painkillers. _

_Bill... I need Bill! He gestured wildly at the door. _

_"_Oh Honey. He can't come in right now. We'll take you back very soon, just a couple more procedures... We have to examine your throat and set your arm..." She said in what was supposed to be a comforting voice. 

_Am I going to die?_

His throat constricted in a familiar way, he couldn't breathe. The doctor looked up and rushed over. 

_Not now, please not now! _He pleaded to his exhausted, oxygen starved brain. He felt as though he were floating above the gurney. He felt... Separated. 

There was the pinch of a needle at the crook of his elbow... a tube being attached to the canela in his arm, a saline IV bag.

A man's latex-gloved hand gently rubbing his arm, talking to him like he was a child or a frightened dog.

"There there Son... It's ok. You've been very brave you know that?"

He watched helplessly as the doctor injected something into the bag. 

...

_He dropped suddenly through the mattress... Into a dark, dark tunnel. He was falling. _

...

_He was moving down a corridor, quite fast... There were bright lights overhead._

_..._

_Someone was forcing his jaw open...Shining a light in his face... A cotton swab.. His throat exploded in agony. Someone was holding him down. Someone was gasping for air._

_..._

_He screamed soundlessly as white hot fire ran from his wrist to his elbow to his shoulder... There was a sick sound of bone scraping bone._

_..._

_A man was on top of him...Rubbing his rock hard erection against him, unbuttoning his pants. Reaching inside, pushing himself violently against him , groaning in pleasure as the last of his life leaked out._

_..._

_"You're allergic to Morphine." A tiny little voice in his head that was still capable of logic supplied. It sounded like Mom. "Holden remember if you're ever in hospital, you're allergic to morphine."_

_...._

_He reached over with his injured arm and pulled the IV tube out. People were yelling... _

Someone was holding his head, running fingers through his hair, speaking to him gently.

He opened his eyes and saw _awful delirious things_, dripping from the ceiling. Doctors and nurses and orderlies transformed into monsters with bloody fangs before his eyes... But the man holding his head was clear, familiar and sane, a worried, patient face.

_ Bill? Bill! It's Bill!_

He tried again, fruitlessly, to speak..._ Falling, a distinct feeling of falling... _

He looked Bill in the eye and...With great effort, pulled off his oxygen mask. Bill was staring right at him. He mouthed the word like he was talking to a deaf person. _AL-ER-GY... Al-ER-GY! Bill you have to understand. _

_Bill understands. Thank you Christ! Bill Understands._ He barked something at the monsters and they fell back away from his bed. Bill looked in his jacket pocket put a pen in his hand... He held out a notepad. Holden tried to write...The pen sliding around the page, his best approximation of the word...

_It's enough. _Bill held it up and the monsters... Who now looked decidedly more human. They suddenly understood too. They rushed around, they took away the IV that he'd pulled out. The doctor was speaking to him but he couldn't hear him.

He was shaking... Either from stress or from the drug. His chest was heaving painfully. He was sitting up in the bed. 

Bill held his oxygen mask to his face... _Is it already too late? Are my lungs going to quit? _

But his lungs weren't collapsing. His ears were working, and he heard the sound of his own breath, wheezing. Of the beeping instruments. of the hospital staff's voices.

"Antihistamines Stat!" Someone said. "And Epinephrine, as a precaution." 

He was in a room now not the ward. The lights were dimmer, the colours more muted. The blind's drawn. Calm. 

He felt arms around him. Not restricting or attacking him. A hand guiding his head... He was leaning against the rough linen of Bill's shoulder...He was sobbing.

For the first time in two days, he was safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB that morphine thing actually happened to me. It was fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Light and sound slowly bled into his awareness as he opened his eyes. A grey, early morning light filled the small room.

He swallowed, testing his throat. The pain was dulled, although not gone. Each breath and swallow wasn’t agony anymore. Despite his drug fogged head he felt more human again. What had happened? He tried to think back to his last memory. It was a blur of pain and fear… And burning humiliation.

_Jesus… Did I really cry myself to sleep on Bill’s shoulder? Fucking hell_. He wondered if he’d ever live it down. _Unprofessional , unmanly behaviour_ he thought. _What kind of FBI agent loses control like that?_

He tried to take stock of his situation. He was still hooked up to dozens of tubes. _IV bag? Check, catheter, check, oxygen mask, check_. His arm was in a cast up to the shoulder and pulled up in traction.

Determined to salvage what was left of his dignity he carefully cast his eyes around the room without betraying the fact that he was awake. The door was open but all was quiet outside. There was a soft snoring coming from the floor beside the bed, he saw the rise and fall of Bill’s shoulder.

He’d stayed all night? Holden thought ruefully of all Bill had done for him, and put up with, the last few… Days? Had it been days? His seemingly endless patience. He felt, somehow, that didn’t deserve it. But was grateful for it nonetheless.

He closed his eyes for what felt like a few seconds. But when he opened them again it was lighter, and there was more noise, more movement. Bill was gone and someone was now sitting in the chair by the bed, reading.

_Wendy?_ He shifted position.

She lifted her eyes from her book, and smiled at him.

“Back in the land of the living I see.“

He waved his hand back and forth. _Barely_.

There was a jug of water on the locker, she reached over and poured some into a paper cup and a moment later he felt a straw being held to his lips. He drank a couple of sips. The pain was still there, a deep, dull ache, but the raw, ripped open feeling was lessening, but he still didn’t dare try to speak.

“You have a fractured hyoid bone.” She told him. "The IV is keeping you hydrated, don’t drink unless you need to. You won’t be physically capable of speech until the swelling goes down and the bone starts to heal... So use this if you need to.”

She indicated a notepad and pen beside the water jug.

“Bill’s gone home for a few hours, he’ll be back this evening. A nurse will be doing her rounds in a few minutes. Meanwhile I thought I’d read you the long list of things wrong with you.”

She showed him the clip chart she was reading. Presumably taken from the end of his bed.

“Starting at the top… Head injury, concussion, bleeding in your airway, the hyoid fracture, severe swelling, severe arterial bruising, possible nerve damage…Possible _brain_ damage…” She looked up at him. “ Do you want me to continue?”

He put his thumb down. He didn’t need a comprehensive list of his injuries. He could feel each one of them. Plus, he knew what else was on that chart and the last thing he needed was Wendy itemising his scratches and bruises below the waist. Although he knew she must've already read that part. How was he ever going to show his face at work again?

“Do you want to know what drugs you’re on? There are several. Morphine isn’t one of them. You probably saved your own life last night by the way.”

He didn’t care. As long as He wasn’t in imminent danger of anaphylactic shock he was cool. He reached for the notepad and pen. Wendy helped, holding it for him so he could scribble, to the best of his ability, with his left hand.

** _Sorry._ **

“I wish you’d told me when you called.” She said, with more gentleness than he deserved.

**_Don’t know why._** He wrote, honestly.

“You were actually already at Death's door by that point.. Literally. Probably in a huge amount of shock… I should have picked up on something wrong." She paused and looked away. The closest to _emotional_ he'd ever seen her. "I feel awful Holden. I wish I’d realised.”

He knew she was going easy on him. He imagined how much trouble he would have saved Bill if he’d only called the ambulance himself. Or better yet, not taken the stupid job in the first place. Or better yet still, done his job properly and not allowed himself to be attacked…

He reached out and squeezed her hand. She patted the blanket. “Rest… I’ll be right here.”

The nurses came and went, replacing bags and tubes, adding drugs to his IV. They were all so professional, gentle, kind but remote and distant. Wendy sat in the chair, composed as ever, and read him horoscopes and other assorted crap from one of the woman’s magazines that the hospital had provided... Adding her own editorial as she went.

“Virgo… You will feel the effects of Venus, the love planet this week. Prepare for an unexpected encounter with an old flame…” She smirked “God Forbid.”

“How to grab the man of your dreams and keep him… Did you know that the key to keeping your man is to be a new woman every day?”

Her deep tone was calming and he spent the morning half dozing. Then, at some point, must have drifted off. This time it felt like real sleep. And he dreamed. Strange druggy dreams of tunnels and doors. Then he was being chased by something shadowy, with claws.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he woke late in the afternoon. But it sure as hell wasn’t Ted Gunn sitting in the corner of the room reading a book. Holden didnt know if it was because he was feeling so unusually fragile but he found that the man’s stillness make him even more unsettling than usual.

_Am I fired?_ He thought before he could stop himself._ I fucked up the interview, hid the evidence and ended up here, probably on the FBI’s dime. I am, of course, fired._

Gunn saw him awake and simply said “Agent Ford,” Before closing his book. He looked solemn. Not a good sign

“Are you in any pain? Do you want a nurse?” He asked awkwardly.

Holden gave him thumb down and Gunn nodded. “ Ok…Well… I'm glad you're awake. I wanted to take a look at you."

_What are you playing at?_ Holden wondered. _Isn’t it bad enough I’m in this position, you can’t just give it to me straight?_

He reached for the notepad. Gunn got up and held it for him while he scrawled on it.

_ **Am I Fired?** _

Gunn’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you be fired?”

Holden didn’t think his left hand could handle any major existential questions so he just tapped the pen on the words _Answer the fucking question Ted._

"No! Of course not. Why would you think tha…Sorry I shouldn’t ask you questions… No Ford you’re not fucking fired. You’re on leave for as long as it takes for you to heal properly but you’re still a full member of the team.” He sighed, rubbing his head wearily. “ If anyone ought to be fired it’s me.”

Through his intense relief, Holden must’ve also registered his surprise on his face.

“Well… Me and the admin at the fucking prison. You walked in there thinking you were getting a pussy cat and out walked a fucking tiger... And I let you do it. Thats _my_ job, Ford, to watch for the welfare of my team.”

He actually looked shaken. Maybe Holden had misjudged him?

I’d be lying if I said I was happy about you keeping this from everyone…But No… Nothing that happened was your responsibility. I drove down there this morning and they denied everything until I managed to get one of the guards alone. His conscience wouldn’t let him keep quiet… I got the story out of him and… Um… Well… I think I understand why you didn’t say anything… And for what its worth I’m sorry.

There was still something so fucking disingenuous about the man. Holden wondered if he really felt that way. He couldn’t help but remember Gunn telling him _“Nothing derails an initiative faster than an OPR investigation.”_ He would naturally say whatever he had to say to make that go away.

“If you want to take legal action against them… Well. I won’t stop you. But It will reflect on the BSU and prisons might not take the risk of allowing interviews in future.”

_Oh here it is. I didn’t think you popped in for a friendly visit._

“…And I’m assuming , given the nature of what happened, you wouldn’t want to go public."

_Really, you think? You think I'd want to rehash it at a tribunal? Tell everyone how he held me down and..._

He closed his eyes against a sudden assault of memory. A flurry of sensations and images that had him pinned to the bed, hyperventilating. He wasn’t aware of Gunn calling for the Nurse, or the Nurse taking his pulse and giving him oxygen, or injecting him with a sedative… He just felt the weight of the man on his body, on his throat…

xxxxxxxxxx

Bill had felt bad leaving the hospital. He knew Holden was in safe hands with the staff and that Wendy would be there when he woke up. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be there. After the administrative error that had nearly killed his friend last night, coupled with the fuck ups that had put him there in the first place… He felt that the other shoe was going to drop from a great height. Still, he needed his family after the hellish night and Nancy was beside herself with worry about the whole thing. 

When he arrived back that evening it was clear that something had happened. Holden had been sedated again. All he’d been able to get out of the hospital staff was that he’d ‘become distressed.’ When he’d left Wendy had mentioned that Gunn had planned to visit that afternoon and Bill couldn’t help but wonder if that hadn’t had something to do with it. If reminding of work hadn’t triggered a panic attack.

In the back of his mind he held the possibility that Holden wouldn’t want or perhaps even be able to continue with the unit after this.

He’d opened his eyes at around 9pm while Bill was on his second coffee and reading a crappy magazine. He hadn’t made a sound just lay there silently watching him with unfocused eyes. Bill had become aware of it but didn’t say anything for a while in order to give him a chance to wake up before he spoke. When he thought enough time had elapsed he glanced up.

“Hi Kid.”

Holden blinked a few times but gave no indication that he'd heard Bill.

“I’m staying with you tonight. I hear things weren’t so great today.”

Holden reached for the notepad and only succeeded in knocking it off the locker. Bill picked it up, and propped it on a pillow beside him on the bed. He wrote shakily.

_ **You don’t have to do that.** _

“I know I don’t but I’m going to.” 

Holden rolled his eyes.

_ **I’m fine.** _

Bill paused for a moment, taking in the kids ashen face, red, bruised looking eyes and unstable hand. He looked like he’d gone five rounds with Cassius Clay. The bruises now dark as ink against his white skin.

“Like hell you are… Don’t start that shit. Why would you do that?” He asked in all seriousness. He thought they were beyond that.

_ **Your family.** _

“Theyre fine with this. In fact Nancy is getting her church group to pray for your swift recovery and Brian insisted I bring you this.” He retrieved the lego car Brian had made for Holden and placed it on the locker. “ It’s the most he’s said to me all week, You must’ve made and impression on the little guy.”

Holden stared at the little car. For a moment Bill thought he might start crying. He put a hand on his shoulder. Pushing him gently back against the pillows.

“Relax, everything’s fine ok?” He said, hoping he’d stop with the anxiety for five minutes. Not that what he had to say next would help, he supposed.

“I called your parents.”

Holden’s eyes widened. He didn’t make a move for the pen and paper, which lay beside him on the sheets, or try to move from under Bill’s hand, but Bill felt Holden’s heart speed up under his palm.

“If I hadn’t called them they were going to call you any time now, and wonder where the hell you were.”

He waited while Holden absorbed the information.

“They would have worried… This way at least they know where you are, that you’re being cared for. They’re flying out tomorrow…”

Holden frowned into the middle distance.

“Holden… If it were my kid I’d want to know.”

Holden signed deeply and picked up the pen, scrawling on the upside down pad.

_ **What did you tell them?** _

Bill was beginning to see what was bothering the younger man. 

“Just that you were attacked…They… They _do_ know what you do for a living don’t they?”

_**Kind of**_ … He wrote.

Bill Sighed “Don’t tell me you’ve kept them in the dark about the type of work we do?”

Holden worried his lower lip and eventually wrote:

_ **They’ve always been overprotective.** _

“So you thought you’d spare them the details eh?” Bill groaned. This explained the absolute shock and surprise he could hear in Mr’s fords voice over the phone. _Poor woman._

Holden scribbled something on the pad that Bill had to squint to see. He then looked away. Bill didn’t need to use his profiling skills to read the shame. 

_ **Did you tell them what he did to me?** _

_Shit_… This was something he’d been afraid of but not properly prepared for. He spoke slowly, trying to gage Holden’s reaction as he did so. 

“I told them about the choking…About your throat… That you wouldn’t be able to talk or eat for a little while... And about your arm… Thats _all_ I told them.”

Holden looked a little less disturbed at that. Bill found that immensely sad, both as a Fed and as a Father... He had to say something. He pulled his chair closer to the bed, leaning his elbows on the mattress. He lowered his face to try and catch His eyes.

“Look… Holden… I don’t know your folks. They might be awful for all I know... But it was pretty clear, even over the phone, that they love you… And I can tell you, as a Dad…That if anything like this happened to my kid… I wouldn’t want him to feel…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “It would kill me actually, if he... He felt that there was anything he couldn’t tell me about…Anything to be ashamed of” He murmured awkwardly. 

_ Please, please believe me.  _

When he got no response, he gently squeezed Holden's good arm and said. "It happens more than people think... Theres a misconception that men only get... _Assaulted_ in prison. But Hell, I've seen it, on the force, in the army, the fucking army is rife with it actually... And you know what? Every _single_ time the one thing that’s consistent is that the victim thinks its somehow _their_ fault... And it never is... Not _ever_... No more than if they were hit by a bolt of lightning or bitten by a dog. Do you understand?"

_Please understand that._

Holden wasn't looking at him, he was staring into the middle distance. at a spot on the wall. 

"I can see you don’t want to discuss this but you need to know you can if you want to. No ones going to think any less of you. Certainly not me... Ok? That’s all I'll say about it for now."

He said gruffly before picking up the crap magazine again and flipping through the pages pointlessly. 

"You want to hear your horoscope?” 

xxxxxxxxxxx

He’d come in at around 3pm after spending the morning with Nancy and then taking care of some paperwork at the office. Gregg was getting swamped and Wendy was already too busy. Gunn has assured him he could take all the time Holden needed but he knew that would cease to apply if the BSU fell apart in his absence. 

He arrived back at the Hospital for visiting hours to find that Holden’s parents had arrived and were sitting beside his bed. One look at them and Bill knew his instincts had been correct. They were both worried and exhausted, that was clear. The kind of worried and exhausted that only a loving parent could achieve. They both looked on the verge of tears.

Holden was sitting up in bed, propped against a few pillows. He looked positively energetic and vital compared to yesterday. He was smiling for Chrissakes! 

Holden’s father rose and shook his hand. Bill could see the physical resemblance right away.  “You must be Agent Tench… I’m Ron. This is my Wife Doris.”

Bill shook hands with the slight woman.  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for our son.” She said in a thin, stressed voice “Holden’s very lucky to have you as a partner.”

He sat with them for an hour or so, discussing the BSU and trying to downplay the risker aspects of their work. Holden didn’t need a fight on his hands when he returned to the office . Still, they seemed suspicious. Bill could tell they wanted more information that he or Holden was comfortable giving to them. They’d spoken to the doctor and had been shocked anew at the violence that had been inflicted on their son.

Doris Ford was a little woman with a big personality, Bill thought. She had an eccentric way of viewing the world, like her son. 

“So you two spend all day thinking about crime? Any tips on how to rob a bank?” She joked through her fear.

Ron sat silently at the end of the bed, gently holding his son’s foot, in an open gesture of affection That Bill wasn’t used to seeing from a man his age.

Holden wrote short messages on his notepad. What he’d like to read. Could they bring him his own pyjamas? The quirks of his apartment, where they would be staying for the time being.

He was trying to keep things light. But it didn’t take Bill long to realise the energy was false, he could see the smile didn’t extend to his eyes and he’d flinch occasionally, making Bill wonder if he’d received his painkiller on time.

“ Would you two like to get a taxi to Holden’s apartment and get settled? I’ll stay with him untill you get back.”

“ Thats very kind of you Agent Tench.” Ron said softly.”We won’t be long, we’ll just drop off our bags and come straight back.”

“ Please, call me Bill… And it’s no trouble. Take your time, eat something, have a rest. I can be here all night.”

He shook their hands again and watched Holden deflate like a balloon when they left. He looked suddenly drained. 

“You need to sleep.” Bill said, helping him to lie down and get the neck brace resting comfortably on his pillows. “You look wreaked.”

Holden was asleep almost as soon as he lay down. Bill, arranged his blankets and sat in the chair by his feet.

At some point a Nurse came and added something to the IV, checked his vitals and wrote something on his chart. Holden didn't wake 

Bill took the notepad off the locker and flicked though the pages, littered with things Holden had written to his parents.

** _ The spare key is in the freezer, under the green beans.  _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ All you need to do is jiggle the oven door _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ The water heater is under the sink _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ I know _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ Anything funny _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ Books? _ **

** _ … _ **

Soon he came to earlier scribblings, things that had been written before Bill had arrived earlier. Things like:

** _ I’m fine _ **

** _ …. _ **

** _ Doesn’t Hurt _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ Don’t cry _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ I’m ok _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ Sorry _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ Sorry Mom _ **

** _ … _ **

** _ I’m ok.  _ **

A stream of reassuring lies, designed to protect the people he loved. 

Bill watched his partner sleep with a slight frown on his young face, twitching in distress.He wished he could walk into Holden’s dreams and make them peaceful. He wondered, when was the last time Holden had slept peacefully?

He knew for himself, that his own subconscious was more likely to throw murder and violence at him than any sweet dreams as he slept…. But at least he had Nancy sleeping beside him most nights. 

Who did Holden have? Debbie had ditched him, and skipped town. His parents were there for him but he wasn’t being remotely open with them. Bill could understand that. He didn’t want to hurt them. He had the same instincts toward his own family. 

He realised in that moment that he thought of Holden as family too. In a weird way, he was closer to him than anyone. They’d shared such unique and intense experiences. It was almost like bond to his platoon in Korea… Stuck together by shared horror. 

“I’m here kid…” He whispered. “ It’s going to be ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this.


	5. Chapter 5

The following week was a blur. He was never left alone. He had wanted his mother, and he got her, and his dad, constantly. Their sorrowful, attentive, worried care.

There were many visits fom Bill or Wendy, almost daily, and Gregg Smith had come in one day with adorable ‘get well soon’ cards from hs little girls.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate, or need it, but he couldn’t deny that there was a certain amount of peace to be had at night, when everyone went home and it was just him and the nurses.

Eventually the swelling went down in his throat and he was able to drink soup, then the specialist sat by his bed, trying to force sounds out of him.

”Try a “Ha” Sound Agent Ford.”

It sounded like a breath, a puff of air. Barely there, but there.

After ten days he was discharged into the care of his parents. No denying it was great to be back in his own apartment. His own bed. But his mother fussing, making him drink soups and smoothies. His father sat beside his bed reading to him, occasionally reaching out to touch his shoulder, as though reassuring himself his son was really alive.

Their concern was draining him. He knew what they wanted to say, and wouldn’t:

_ How could you? How could you do a job that dangerous? Why would you want this?  _

He couldn't explain it to them even if he’d been able to speak. 

His inability to speak was another thing, although his arm was still in a cast, his hand was now in good enough shape to grasp the pen and write. That helped but every word he scratched just reminded him that his voice was still missing. Wheezing, whispering sounds. That was it. 

The doctors had decided that his throat was healing, that there was no reason why he couldn’t start talking again, within reason. No singing opera or anything but quiet conversation should've been a reality by the time he was discharged.

Two weeks later and there was a question as to weather he couldn’t speak or wouldn’t. 

Holden didn’t know. He knew he wasn’t in pain anymore, that his hyoid bone was healing properly. But maybe because he’d become used to silence, he found himself non verbal most of the time unless absolutely nessicary. 

Bill, Nancy and Brian had visited the apartment shortly after he got back. He’d opened the door and walked right into a bear hug. Bill had wide Grin on his face. Nancy, on the other hand looks a little devastated. She kept eyeing the faint bruises that still marred his throat and gently touched his hand every now and then. 

Holden sat in awkward silence while his parents did the talking. He felt an overwhelming urge to go and sit beside Brian on the floor, who was off in own world with a colouring book. 

He wondered if he’d ever be himself again, whoever that was. _Is this me now? This sad, silent person?_

He hadn’t been expecting the nightmares. 

As much as he longed to be independent again, the nightmares made him glad of the company of his parents. When he woke on a silent scream he could hear their gentle breathing from the sofa bed in the living room and his heart would slow down. 

The nightmares weren’t of O'Reilly, or anything that had happened to him, just a dark entity, following him through the rooms and halls of a dark, empty house. Waiting. 

He’d heard that symbolically _you_ are everyone and everything in your dreams.

He had to get back to work. His parents could only stay on the hard sofa bed for so long and the unit needed him. He knew that technically he should be off on sick leave for at least another few weeks, until his cast was off, until his voice was back.

But he had to get out of the apartment. aways from his sick bed, away from the well meant concern.

Thats how he found himself back in the basement office one morning. Weeks early, working his way through a particularly tedious pile of paperwork. 

He wanted so badly to be back in the field, far away from there, on a plane or speeding down the highway with Bill. Heading to a new case. 

But this was better than nothing.

The team had looked surprised to see him when he showed up in a taxi that morning. But, he noted with some displeasure, they’d been hiding it well. He didn’t like the idea of people walking on eggshells around him. But at the same time he’d been half expecting Bill or Wendy to point at the door and send him home, so their caution worked in his favour this time. 

But if he was honest with himself he wasn’t remotely ready for it, by noon he was exhausted and fighting sleep. Good thing they only gave him busywork that he couldn’t possibly fuck up. 

They’d set him up at a corner desk, typing up transcripts from tape. He listened with headphones and typed out the twisted, psychopathic voices, immortalising their sickness in black and white. 

“So I waited by the park for the kids to start walking home…”

“ I never loved my mother…”

“ I guess It all started with the cat…”

He drifted, his fingers working mindlessly at the keys. It was almost hypnotic. He drifted… His eyes falling closed…

He jumped at a hand on his shoulder. His entire body freezing momenterally in terror. 

“Hey. It’s just me…” 

It was Gregg standing over him. To Holden’s surprise he had a rather formidable and determined expression on his face. 

“You need to take a break.”

Holden shook his head, turning back to the typewriter.

“ Yeah I'd be more convinced if you could tell me to fuck off out loud.” Greg said curtly, taking Holden by the elbow and pulling him upwards.

_Is he using his dad voice on me? Fuck!_ What had he been reduced to? Being led and bossed around by Gregg Smith of all people!

He found himself sitting on the sofa in Wendy’s office. Staring at her while she read though files, made phone calls and spoke to Bill, who occasionally wandered in and out. They didn't particularly aknnowlege him, he felt a little like a ghost haunting the office. 

He must’ve fallen asleep. He was lying on his side, his good arm was numb. Someone's coat was covering him like a blanket. Wendy and Bill were sitting at the desk talking quietly.

The Gates case, whatever that was, he badly needed to catch up on things. He eyed the clock. 5.15… He’d been sleeping all afternoon.

_How are they even tolerating me here, this unfit for work?_

Bill and Wendy looked over as as he slowly sat up.

“Hey.” Bill said with a sad looking smile. “How are you feeling?”

Holden opened his mouth and something tightened in his throat. Something constricted to stop the words getting out. They looked at one another for a moment before Bill got up and walked over.

_Shit_… His heart began to race. _Just leave me be please… Don’t make me talk…_

Bill sat down beside him and placed an arm around his shoulders, giving him a slight squeeze. 

“C’mon I’ll drive you home.” He said, pulling Holden up by the elbow like an invalid.

“See you both tomorrow.” Wendy called after them as they left the room.

Bill seemed pretty relaxed as he drove, he turned the radio on and tapped his fingers on the wheel.. Which is more than could be said for Holden who was halfway to a panic attack for no discernible reason. 

He pulled up outside Holden’s building and exited the car. 

What Holden wanted to say was “There's no need to walk me inside Bill. I’m just fine.” But what he actually said was nothing. The words dried up on his tongue and he followed Bill inside like a well trained dog and hated himself for it. 

But the moment he opened the door to the familiar sounds of his parents chatting and moving around the apartment he knew he’d be back at the office the next day. He had to get out of there. 

“See you tomorrow kid.” 

“S…” He saluted Bill and went inside, walking right into his Mothers arms.

“Honey! How was your first day back?”

xxxxxxxxxxx

“He’s going nuts at home, it’s pretty obvious.” Bill murmured hurriedly down the phone, around the cigarette clenched in his teeth. Nancy and Brian had gone to bed. He couldn't sleep. 

_“He’s not ready for work Bill. Not even office work., he should be home in bed being looked after properly.”_ Replied Wendy. 

“Right so maybe he doesn’t work, maybe he just comes in a sleeps on your office couch for a week or so. It’s better than letting him get depressed in bed for God knows how long.”

_ “My concern is that he’ll feel pressure to get back on the job too soon…He can’t speak yet Bill… What if he decides he’s no longer competent? Or takes on work he cant handle? How depressed will he be then?” _

“He can speak. I’ve heard him. I mean, he’s still hoarse and quiet but he’s not mute anymore.”

_ “Yet he has yet to say a word to anyone besides you and his parents. What does that tell you?” _

“I have no idea.”

_ “Well… I’m just theorising here but if he can't speak then it follows he can't interview anyone yet.” _

“Obviously?”

_ “Subconsciously maybe he’s afraid of being in the same room with another killer.” _

Bill sighed deeply. Hit with a pang of sympathy for Holden’s predicament.

"Gun Shy."

_ “It’s understandable, he was brutally attacked. Nearly killed. Sexually assaulted. And we don’t know exactly what happened there either.” _

“No we don’t…” Bill flinched at the thought. “So what can we do? I can’t send him home Wendy.”

There was a long pause.

_ “You're right... We don’t make a big deal out of it, let him rest, Don’t push him to talk but listen when he does.” _

Bill nodded to himself. Stubbing out his cigarette.

_ “Dont judge him.” _

“I don’t.”

_ “I know that but does he?” _

“I hope so.”

_ “Bill what happened to him will have been a huge blow not just professionally but to his masculinity, his self esteem…” _

“I know… I know Wendy l... I dont know how to help him. If I try I just end up patronising him and he gets mad…. If I don't try hard enough he thinks I’m mad athim.”

_ “He’s not thinking rationally right now Bill. Dont take it personally." _

So it continued for the next week. He’d come into the office in the morning, quietly sit at his desk transcribing tape. Then at some point in the afternoon he’d sleep somewhere, either in Wendy’s office or some other corner with a likely looking chair...Then Bill would wake him with coffee so he could drive home. That's was the routine until Holden had his parents convinced they could return home to New York. 

He hadn’t expected Holden’s mother to appear at his door one Sunday afternoon. They were leaving the next morning

“ Doris! What a nice surprise! Please come in!” Nancy invited her. She sat awkwardly on their couch watching Brian playing with his blocks on the carpet. 

“ What a lovely little boy.” She smiled to herself… “Holden loved building things when he was little.”

“ I can just imagine that” Said Nancy. “ How sweet.”

She cleared her throat. 

“Um… Bill…You’ll keep an eye on our boy won’t you?” She asked, fiddling with her coffee cup.

She looked… Unsure… She’d probably learned more about the work of the BSU than she wanted to.

“ We know the work you do is dangerous and… Well Holden… Once he gets his teeth into something… “

“ Believe me I know.” Bill said smiling stiffly “And rest assured he will _never_ do another interview without me or someone else there with him. We’re changing our policy to that effect.” 

“Um…”

She clearly wanted to say something else but couldn’t with Brian and Nancy in the room. Bill made small talk until it was time to walk her to her car, where she looked at him with tears in her eyes. 

“I know there are _things_ he isn’t saying… About the attack… I tried to talk to him about it but… Well…There are things a man can't tell his mother or father."

“ I know.”

“ keep a close eye on him please.” 

She looked a little desperate. He took her hand. 

“I’ll look out for him Doris. You have my word.”

xxxxxxxxxx

There were things he wasn’t saying…. Actually scratch that there was a _lot_ he wasn’t saying. A month laster and Holden was still barely speaking at all. 

Make no mistake, he _could_ speak. His neck brace and bruises were gone… But if he said more than five words in a working day it was unusual. He’d sit at his desk in silence, smile at whoever bought him coffee and occasionally murmur something to Bill or Wendy regarding a transcript error. 

But he showed no interest in getting back on the road… Bill could hardly blame him...Still, he was going to have to bring it up. They had to start interviewing again eventually. Wendy and Gregg couldn’t cover for them forever.

The opportunity had presented itself late one afternoon. The others were on a job and it had been just the two of them in the office with Holden, headphones on, lost in his typing. Bill chanced to look up when the clicking stooped and saw that Holden was sitting with his eyes closed. Deathly pale.

Bill walked around Holden’s desk, removed the headphones from his partner’s ears and put them on. Holden didn’t open his eyes, he was clearly trying to regulate his breathing. There was nothing but static on the tape so Bill reached over Holden’s shoulder and re-wound it for a few seconds..

......

_“ Do you think your sexual violence against women stemmed from hatred for your mother?"_ Holden’s voice. Affable, if slightly tense.

_“Aw hell no. I never wanted to fuck that bitch!”_ A rough sounding West Virginia accent.

_ “It never even had to be women, one hole is as good as another… That’s why those faggots at the door there give me a hard time.” _

Bill’s blood ran cold at the realisation that he was listening to Holden’s interview with O’Reilly. _Fuck!_

_ “Because you’re bisexual? But you only raped and killed women?” _

A derisive snort _“Yeah that you feds know about.”_

_ “There were others?” _

_“Oh!”_… A vicious, humourless laugh… _“You bet… ISN’T THAT RIGHT BOYS? See they’re pissed off cause I had a go at some little new fish faggot in the shower last month. Pretty little thing…Fucked him up good… Didn’t manage to kill ‘I’m though… Not quite… Left me feelin’… Hungry. ”_

There was the barest sound of Holden inhaling…Then his voice, suddenly fearful. On the edge of a stutter._ “So you have killed men befo…”_

Then there was movement... Something smashing , a scream... There was yelling in the background… Fighting, punching, struggling, yelling… A moan of pain that bought sudden tears to Bill’s eyes… He instinctively reached down and put a hand on Holden’s shaking shoulder.

Then the tape cut out. 

He removed the Headphones and set them on the desk. He looked down at Holden. He was breathing deep, through his nose. Eyes squeezed shut.

Bill pulled over a chair and sat opposite. Staring intently at his partner until Holden opened his eyes and immediately looked at his hands on the desk instead of at Bill. 

“I didn’t know they’d salvaged any of that tape…” Bill said quietly “… It shouldn’t have been in the…”

“No.” Holden said suddenly in a thin whisper. “ I went looking for it.”

_ “Why?” _

“I thought that maybe… Um… maybe it would help me remember.”

“You’re having trouble remembering that day?”

Holden looked up briefly and nodded. In that glance Bill saw shame, and trauma. 

“But not any more?”

“Not entirely… I definitely passed out at one point but…” He shook his head. He looked exhausted, drained of colour, like some vampire had stuck a straw into him.

“Talk to me.” Bill laid his hands out palm up on the desk in a non threatening gesture. Honestly Kid I can't handle the silence around here anymore. This isn't like you...You can’t keep on like this. You must know that.”

“Um…” Holden eyed Bill's hands intently, looking anywhere but at his face. 

Bill sighed. "You know there's nothing you can say that will make me think less of you right? I've said it before but... You know that I _mean_ it don't you?"

There was a moment of fragile silence. Holden's voice when he replied was a broken whisper. He fidgeted and rubbed his formerly broken wrist pulling a thread on his sleeve. 

“ He…Um… He had me on the ground and he was strangling…”Holden blinked his eyes and shook his head again “… Strangling me… And… I knew I was going to die… And then suddenly I could breathe but I couldn’t move my body… I knew I would die and I couldn’t fight back… He… His hands were on me and…” He grimaced involuntarily“… In my pants and… All I could think was_ “This is it… This is how I go… All my life was leading to this….”_

He was speaking hurriedly. The words tumbling out of him, his breath not coming fast enough to keep up. He was shaking. 

Bill wanted to reach over and comfort him but there was an air of fear about the kid that made him think that wasn’t a good idea.

“Then his hands were back on my throat and… He was… Um… He was…Rubbing himself against my groin… Like… Grinding…” He Squeezed his eyes shut and flushed crimson for a moment. “And I could feel the life leaving my body and him… Um… Climaxing… Getting…” He gulped “…Getting off on that.”

Bill subconsciously put a hand over his mouth and shook his head. He didn't know how to respond to that... Except to just listen, as Wendy had advised.

_ What does that do to someone, knowing another human being was orgasming to your death?  _ He wondered. Wanting, not for the first time, to deliver the death penalty to O'Reilly himself. 

There was a long pause as Holden struggled to express what he was thinking, tripping over the words, trying not to break down. 

“Do you Believe in Karma Bill?”

Bill frowned, wondering what Holden was getting at

“Karma? As in… What goes around…”

“…Comes Around, yeah…" Holden murmured, still reluctant to make too much eye contact. "Do you remember when Wendy and I went to Georgia to talk to the new D.A. about the death penalty?”

Bill nodded, not sure where this was going.

“Well… She said that… That we’d never really comprehend the full…Magnitude of murder, magnitude of the choice a murderer makes… That we deal with killers in the abstract. In an intellectual sense but we could never understand them… Not _really_ Because we could never see them from the perspective of one of their victims”

“And?”

“And she was right… I realised that with Kemper at the Hospital in Vacaville. I thought I caught a glimpse of it then but… I wasn’t even close… I had no idea. I was talking to people like Kemper and O’Reilly on a daily basis and I had no idea of what they really were.”

“And what are they?”

“They’re the tragedy. The worst fucking tragedy Bill… They are the lowest, cruelest part of the human puzzle… And there’s no hope for redemption for them… And there’s no justice for their victims. Not really... And no one... Not even us, will truly understand them because we aren't broken enough.”

“And how does Karma come into it?” Bill asked softly, watching warily as Holden's hands gripped the desk in front of him. White knuckled.

“Well… I think back on my attitude. Back when I thought I knew it all, when I thought _I_ was manipulating _them_…” He swallowed thickly. Gripping a pencil in his fist so hard it almost snapped…And I wasn’t… I… I wasn’t respectful… To the people they killed.”  He shook his head.  “I used their own language and their attitudes to catch them out… And I’d do it again if it meant saving someone… But I did it to _win_… To _conquer_… To have control over this… _Vile_ unknown quantity that I saw in them... That scared the shit out of me… I never… Really grieved for the victims like I should have.”

“And now?”

“And now they’re all I can think about.” He grimaced, wiping a hand across his eyes. “Every time my mind wanders I think about the ones who weren’t as lucky as I was, the ones that never got justice, the ones that never even got names… And I know how they felt in their last moments.”

Bill Sighed deeply and put a hand over Holden’s tensed fist. 

“Kid...No matter what happened last year or what methods you used…You know you’re a good person right?”

Bill waited but Holden didn’t reply. He just stared at Bill’s hand on his and set his jaw against the tremors that ran though it.

“And no…To answer your question I don’t believe in Karma. Because if Karma existed, all of our subjects would be dead right now and most of their victims would be alive. So no Holden I don’t think you deserved it. I don’t think that it happened to teach you a lesson but…

Holden looked up. Bill chose his words very carefully.

"...You can use it… It can be a curse...Empathy, but you can still use it. I wish it hadn’t happened to you Holden but I know that one day you’ll look back and know you learned something from it that benefited you."

Holden was staring at him, his eyes brimming.

"But don't look to hard for greater plans and...And Fucking Karma and punishments...Don't blame yourself. You have a dangerous job. A really fucking dangerous job and a lot of mistakes were made... None by you... It was _not_ your fault." 

He said it forcefully, squeezing the younger man's fist. He was having trouble meeting Holden's eyes. Emotional scenes weren't his thing. He thought maybe he understood Brian for once and his aversion to eye contact. 

"And you save lives every day with the work you do. If your motivations and methods aren't always Godly pure well I think that just makes you a flawed human being with an ego like the rest of us who still saves fucking lives every day so who's complaining eh?"

Holden coughed , or laughed harshly, he wasn't sure which. Bill swallowed thickly, not wanting to say what he had to say next... But knowing he had to. He looked Holden in the eye. The kid was in tears and that made his throat tighten, but he pressed on.

"But having said all that... If you wanted to quit field work after this you would be entirely justified." Bill said "And I would understand... We all would understand if you never wanted to do another interview...And if you wanted to walk away from this job alltogether... From the F.B.I... We would still be friends...? Understand"

"I...I don't want to quit Bill." Holden stammered quietly. I really don't. I want to keep doing our work together, to keep interviewing subjects." 

Bill exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

"But...Every time I think about walking into another prison I just..."

"I know... But its early days yet... And hear me when I say this... It will never happen to you again. That's a promise. I will see to it that you, that we, the whole unit, are safe in our work from now on. No job is worth dying for and you don't have to sacrifice yourself to save other people Holden."

"What if I can never do it again?" Holden whispered.

"You will. I know you, you're a stubborn bastard. We'll get past this....And the more time you put between you and that sick son of a bitch the easier it will get."

"We?"

"You Heard me." Bill murmured quietly. "Now what would you say to a drink?"

Holden frowned and pointed at the wall clock. " It's only 4pm."

Bill smiled and raised an eyebrow conspiratorially. "Yeah well... I don't see anyone else here, and did you know we have one of those new answering machines now?" 

Holden smiled back. For the first time in weeks Bill saw a glimpse of the old Holden again.

"Thats right kid. We're gonna do what you never did in school and play hookey... Get your coat." Bill rose and went to get his jacket and briefcase. 

"You know Bill I did once skip school..." Holden said indignantly as he put on his coat and scarf.

"Sick days don't count. What was it? Measles?"

"I was perfectly fine..." Holden laughed as he shut the office door. Bill continued to tease him all the way up the hallway. He could feel a sea change, Holden's stride was more confident beside him, More like himself....Less broken.

_ Slowly, but getting there  _ thought Bill as they walked to McGinty's. 

_Slowly, but getting there Kid. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
